


Carry It With You

by alissabobissa



Category: Fringe (TV)
Genre: Angst, Books, Bubble Bath, F/M, Gen, Olivia has a lot of feelings, and she likes bourbon, whiskey!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 22:57:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20554073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alissabobissa/pseuds/alissabobissa
Summary: Peter gave her a gift. It was a book. She hadn’t decided if she was going to read it or not yet.





	Carry It With You

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is set sometime around season 3, episode 10 (The Firefly) after Olivia receives the book "If You Meet The Buddha On The Road, Kill Him!" by Sheldon Kopp from Peter as a gift, originally intended for Fauxlivia.
> 
> Written in 2011, this was the first Fringe fic I wrote. I do not own these characters.

It sat on the edge of the tub next to a glass of red wine. The glass was really a little too large for wine and it was actually her second of the evening, the first gone before she had even shut off the faucet. The tub was full of hot water and her; Olivia was only occasionally a bubbles and scented powders kind of girl. The book that had somehow remained dry while the water lapped closer and closer to the lip of the tub had yet to be opened, though she had been carrying it around all night. She hadn’t decided if she was going to read it or not yet.  
  
Besides her being alone, none of this was typical. And that might have been the point. When she drank at night it was the hard stuff, usually whiskey or a good bourbon, and baths were luxuries for people who not only had time to relax, but for people who actually could relax.  
  
Olivia had been lying quite still in the warm water for some time. Her eyes were closed, head rested against the tiled wall, and the water was so still that it looked like glass around her. When she finally opened her eyes, she took a deep breath and reached for her wine as she sat up. She gulped down half of the glass quickly, well aware that one was supposed to savor wine in measured mouthfuls.  
  
The whole reason for the bath and the wine was to slow things down, to be calm and quiet and blank for a while. Rachel always swore by a soak and a nice red wine; she said it was how she imagined every classy, old Hollywood actress would end their days; she said it was the best way to get as far away from your own head as possible for a while.  
  
It wasn’t working.  
  
Too many other people kept walking through her thoughts. Too many memories she wished she had kept forming in her mind. Too many questions about _her _wouldn’t stop asking themselves.  
  
On second thought, maybe it was working _too_ well. Or maybe the tub was just too much like the tank in the lab.  
  
Olivia drained the rest of the glass in one tilt back of the head and stared at the unopened book for a few moments. Earlier, after she had assured his father that he was stable, her hand had remained resting on Peter’s chest long after she had hung up with Walter, daring the beat of his heart to drown out the blood pounding in her ears. The adrenaline had worn off hours ago, but the tension in her body remained and it was not being pulled away by atypical alcohol and a soak in the tub.  
  
Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, Olivia let herself slide completely under the calm water. She let it take her in bit by bit, let it make the seconds tick by more slowly. After only a few moments, her mind didn’t start to wonder when air would become an issue or how easy it might be to cross back over. Her mind just went blank, and for a second, she relaxed. When she broke the surface once more, she smoothed her wet hair back and stood up.  
  
Minutes later she was in her robe and curled up on the couch, her wet hair already leaving a mark on the cushions. Her gun was within reach on the coffee table and she had replaced her wine glass with a lowball glass holding a generous portion of bourbon. She took a drink, and smiled to herself: this was much more her style. She suddenly wished it wasn’t too late to call Rachel.  
  
The book was still with her. It sat awkwardly in the pocket of Olivia’s robe. Surviving the trip from the bathroom to the couch intact, one corner was poking her in the side uncomfortably. She took another swig of her drink and drew the book out to look at the cover.  
  
He had said it was about finding the answers within ourselves. She liked that, but placed the book back into her pocket all the same.  
  
She was going to have to carry it around with her for a little while longer.


End file.
